


Somewhere Out There

by RainaWrites



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Crew as Family, F/M, Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, Healing, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Parallel Universes, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-28 12:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16723689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainaWrites/pseuds/RainaWrites
Summary: Members from the Enterprise are on a routine away mission when they witness a fiery crash. They pull a single survivor from the wreckage-a young woman who looks eerily familiar. Her presence begs questions that hit close to home. And the answers will send shockwaves throughout the future as they know it.





	1. Dropping In

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first Star Trek piece. I would really appreciate feedback! And let me know if you have a Star Trek piece of your own, I'm still learning how to navigate this site and would love some reading material!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A routine away mission becomes not-so-routine

William Riker gazed out at the purple horizon. A brilliant, shimmering sun etched streaks of color across the alien sky. It had been sunset for thirteen hours, and the Starfleet commander had been on that god-forsaken planet for three of them. A bead of sweat dripped down his temple. He wiped it away and squared his broad shoulders. "How much longer, Geordi?" he called.

Lieutenant Geordi Laforge appeared between a pair of boulders with a handheld device. "Soon, commander. I think the captain will be pretty happy about our findings. I've never seen such high concentrations of deuterium, and so close to the surface. Mining would be minimal."

"Good. I'm getting hungry." He leapt down to Laforge's level. "Is it just me, or does that cloud look like a nice, juicy steak?"

Laforge laughed. "I believe you've been in this heat too long. A few more minutes, I promise. Just gotta finish measuring this-"

They were interrupted by a thunderous crack that seemed to split the sky in two. Riker ducked instinctively, shielding his eyes with one hand as he scanned their surroundings for danger. Echoes of the crack were swallowed by a rumbling that shook the pebbles at his feet.

"Geordi! Are you alright?" he shouted.

"Yes sir! What's going on?"

"There!" Riker pointed to a fiery cloud that hurtled towards the horizon. He watched, transfixed, as the cloud burned off to reveal a spacecraft of some sort. It spun out of control, its wings singed and a long, ugly scar on one side.

"Riker to bridge!" He tapped his combadge hurriedly. "Something just entered the planet's atmosphere!"

Data's voice came through. "Our sensors just picked it up," the android said. "Strange...we should have seen it sooner."

"Are there any lifeforms aboard? It's about to crash!" Riker's eyes widened as the vessel tore over the treeline, snapping off limbs and sending up flurries of foliage. But the forest fought back, clawing at its belly so that pieces of twisted metal lay scattered behind, smoldering bright as the sunset.

"Commander-" It was Data again. "There is one life form. Vitals are fading. Are you close by?"

"We're on our way." Riker's feet flew across the rock-strewn ground with a renewed sense of urgency. The wreckage glowed up ahead like a beacon, guiding both officers deeper into the forest. At last they came upon a great plume of flames. A ravenous fire devoured the craft, filling the sky with smoke and raining ashes upon Riker's shoulders as he searched for signs of the survivor. Then, with a thump of hope, he spotted the shape of a person slumped over the controls in what was left of the cockpit. He rushed fearlessly forward, the flames licking at his face, and hoisted the body over his shoulder.

"This way!" Laforge appeared at his side. He guided the commander away from the crash and together, they made their way through the tangle of trees until the forest thinned out once more. Safe at last, Riker let the survivor sink gently to the ground.

"She's in bad shape," Laforge remarked. Riker rubbed his eyes and then squinted at the small figure that lay before him. She looked young, barely out of her teens. Raven dark hair, matted with blood, fanned out around her pale face. Patches of burned flesh showed through her tattered uniform, still crackling and hissing with embers.

"Do you have a lock on us?" Riker panted into his combadge. "The survivor is in need of immediate medical attention." The young woman stirred. A faint groan passed through her bloodied lips. "Lie still. Everything's going to be alright," he promised. Her eyes cracked open, and Riker felt a swell of pity for the way she shuddered with the effort.

"Beaming you aboard now," Data advised. The forest around them faded away.

\- - - - - 

"What's the situation, doctor?"

Beverly Crusher looked up from her patient to find the captain standing nearby. She blew out a weary sigh and shook her head. "Critical."

Picard's gaze softened as it fell upon the injured young woman. Her chest heaved with halting, uneven breaths. Her eyelids fluttered as if trying to open. "Has she regained consciousness yet?"

"She wavers in and out. But she's sure fighting hard."

Picard nodded approvingly. "Admirable."

He moved closer to better examine their newest passenger. She wore a long, burgundy tunic with black across the chest and shoulders and matching black trousers. A utility belt was clasped around her waist, lined with empty holsters.

"She had weapons on her?" the captain deduced.

"Yes. Multiple types of phasers and knives. And there was something else-" Crusher turned to a nearby table and retrieved a small device from its surface. She placed this device into Picard's palm.

He stared at it, bewildered. "Is this-is this a communicator?" He picked up the badge with his other hand and held it aloft for closer scrutiny.

"Yes. I tried to see if I could reach anybody, but nothing came through."

"She is from Starfleet, then?" Picard turned his attention back to the patient sprawled on the cot beside them. "Surely she is too young to be an officer."

"I've taken a blood test, and Bettencourt is running it through the database as we speak. Hopefully we'll have a name soon."

"I don't understand," Picard said with a shake of his head. "Where could she have come from? Why was she alone? There have been no reports of any vessels under attack in this sector. And her uniform-what do you make of it?"

"I've never seen it before. But it does look reminiscent of ours, doesn't it?" Crusher's lips curved into a half-smile. "There's something familiar about her overall, in fact. I can't quite place it."

Picard grunted his concession. "I know what you mean. Her face...it is almost as if..." He trailed off, shaking his head once more. "Well, hopefully she will provide us with some answers when she wakes. Inform me right away of any changes in her state."

\- - - - - 

Several hours passed before the doctor heard her speak. "Who's there?" her voice rasped. She lifted herself onto her elbows with effort.

Crusher approached, smiling warmly. "It's alright. You had a pretty bad crash. But lucky for you, a couple of our officers were able to pull you out. You're safe now."

"Safe?" She struggled to sit up all the way, but Crusher placed her hands on her shoulders.

"Please stay down. You need your rest."

The young woman grabbed hold of Crusher's wrists with startling swiftness and strength. "Who are you? What am I doing here?" she demanded.

The doctor quelled a surge of apprehension rising in her chest. She answered clearly and slowly: "My name is Beverly Crusher. I'm a Starfleet medical officer. You were injured-"

"Starfleet? You are from Starfleet?" Her grip loosened slightly.

"Yes."

"What outpost is this?" The young woman blinked as she looked around the room for the first time. Her hands fell back down to the bed.

"We're not on an outpost," Crusher replied, straightening back up. "We're on a ship. The U.S.S. Enterprise."

"The-the what?" She swung her feet over the side of the cot, gripping the edge to steady herself.

"The Enterprise," Crusher repeated, backing away a step. "Can you tell me your name?"

But the patient did not answer. Her face hardened, drawing taut with lines of contempt. Her eyes turned slowly, menacingly, towards the doctor. "Who did you say you were?"

Crusher backed away further. One hand reached up and tapped her badge. "Captain, the patient is awake. Requesting security."

Without warning, the young woman leapt from the cot and knocked Crusher into a nearby tray. She clattered to the floor amidst a hail of medical instruments. "No-stop!" the doctor shouted. But it was too late. Her attacker had already fled.


	2. Questions and Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their new visitor wakes up, but her reaction only deepens the mystery.

The young, raven-haired woman bolted down the hallway. After she came around the first corner, she skidded to a less-than-graceful stop. A host of security officers blocked the far end. They hurriedly drew their phasers and levelled them with her chest.

"Stay where you are!" one of them shouted. She hesitated, glancing side to side like a cornered animal. They inched towards her tentatively, expecting her to turn and flee at any second. But she did not flee. Instead, she ducked her head and barrelled straight towards them.

"No! I said stop!" Several phasers fired. But she took a flying leap off the nearest wall, dodging their fire and propelling herself into their midst. There was a snap as she broke the first arm to throw a punch in her direction, then a sickening sound as she sent another officer down over his own leg. The rest of them were rendered unconscious with cruel, ruthless efficiency.

Just as the final guard dropped to the floor, Picard rounded the corner. He was accompanied by chief of security, Worf. The Klingon stepped in front of his captain protectively. "You there! Stop!" he bellowed.

She whipped around to face him. Her eyes narrowed to slits. "How dare you! You would-you would desecrate-" she sputtered, enraged, as she took a step towards him. Just then, phaser fire blasted into the wall where she had been standing. She turned, startled, and found another group of security officers bearing down on her. With a vicious snarl, she threw herself at her new assailants.

Worf raced to their assistance. She flung an officer at him, knocking them both asunder. Then she grabbed the next nearest one and laced her arm around his throat. Her other hand snaked to his waist, where she wrested his phaser free. "Drop your weapons!" she shouted, pressing the phaser against his temple. Her thumb switched it to maximum.

"Listen to her! Stand down!" Picard ordered. Worf and the remaining guards backed away, dropping their phasers begrudgingly. Picard lifted his hands in surrender and began to move forward with slow, cautious steps.

"Get back!" She tightened her arm around the hostage's throat.

"Just tell me what it is that you want," Picard said calmly, continuing his encroach.

"No more games," she growled. "Where are we?"

"You are aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise. My name is Captain Jean Luc-"

"Picard? No it isn't," she snapped. "You are an impostor! And you dishonor a magnificent man with this charade!" She glared at him with blue, baleful eyes that pierced him like daggers.

Picard paused, caught off guard by the bizarre accusation. "What makes you think that I am an impostor?"

"I said no games!" Her arm tightened once more. The officer gargled for breath and began to writhe like a fish out of water in her grip.

"Please! Let him go! We can talk-" A phaser shot interrupted their exchange. The young woman doubled over in pain, giving her hostage a chance to crawl away on his knees. Someone approached, standing before her with phaser still drawn and trained. Her jaw fell open when she caught sight of his towering figure.

"Don't move again," Commander Riker warned.

Anguish replaced the anger in her eyes. "No," she breathed, slumping to the floor in capitulation. "I won't do it. I won't fight you."

\- - - - - 

A clatter of boots filled the brig as Picard, Riker, and Counselor Troi filed in. The young woman sat with her back to them, leaning one shoulder against the bulkhead. She showed no interest in having an audience.

Picard tilted his head towards Troi inquisitively. "Is she still hostile, counselor?"

Troi concentrated on the prisoner's back. Immediately, her countenance darkened. A storm seeped into her Betazoid eyes. The features of her face wrenched with pain.

"Counselor?" Picard prompted. She gave a slight jump, broken free from her trance.

"She is suffering," Troi replied, her voice soft and sympathetic.

Picard turned his attention back to the prisoner. "Dr. Crusher is concerned about your health. She is willing to finish tending your wounds, despite your mistreatment of her. You don't have to suffer needlessly."

"No," came the flat reply. "Stay away from me, whoever you are."

Riker squared his jaw with an air of irritation. "Look," he said. "We're not your enemy, we're your rescuers. A little gratitude would be nice."

Though her back was to him, he noticed her wince. At his side, Troi mirrored her pain. He cast her a silent, questioning look, but she did not explain.

Picard cleared his throat. "You were wearing a Starfleet communicator when we found you. What is your ship called? Perhaps we can try to make contact-"

"Impossible."

"Oh? Why's that?"

Her shoulders rose as she drew in a breath. "My ship was destroyed."

Picard nodded slowly. Riker's irritation became subdued with something gentler. _She is suffering_. He drew himself close to the electrostatic barrier and crouched to her level.

"Hey. What's your name?" he asked.

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. Her lips curled into a silent snarl. "My name? _You_ don't know my name?"

"No." He shook his head. "There was no record of you in the Starfleet database."

Her snarl turned into a sneer. "The Starfleet database, huh?" She climbed hastily to her feet and began to pace along the barrier like a caged animal. "What sort of mind game is this anyways? What do you want from me?"

Riker stood up as well, watching her with a bewildered expression. "Mind game?"

Abruptly then, she laughed. It was a dry, mirthless laugh that unsettled the commander. "Haven One. You want the location of Haven One, don't you?"

Riker and Picard exchanged puzzled glances.

"It won't work! They kept the location a secret from us!" She laughed again. As she did so, her balance began to sway. One hand shot out, pressing against the bulkhead for strength.

"You're badly injured," Picard interjected, a note of urgency in his voice as he witnessed her descent into delirium. "Please, let us help you."

"They did not expect children to be able to withstand torture, should we be captured," she continued. "Or assimilated. So do as you will! But you will never find Haven One. Might...might as well..." She stumbled forward, wavering on the brink of consciousness. "...kill me...now." Her body crumpled to the floor in a heap.

Riker raced to the controls and punched in a code. A door-sized hole appeared in the electrostatic wall. Troi rushed in first, turning the prisoner over and pulling her onto her lap. One of her hands pressed against the young woman's cheek in a tender display of compassion.

Picard entered. He was followed by Riker, who knelt beside the counselor with an exasperated sigh. "I'm afraid we have more questions than answers now."

Troi looked up at both men. "Carmen," she said. "Her name is Carmen."

Picard's eyes widened incredulously. "How do you know that, counselor?"

"I saw things, sir. Flashes, like memories, while you were questioning her."

"And?"

She looked back down at the young woman. "I don't understand it. But I think I know who she is."


	3. A Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmen's identity is revealed, but more questions are unearthed in the process.

_"He was wrong about you, Carmen. I hope you know that." A familiar voice came through her combadge. Sweat stung Carmen's eyes as she leaned against the controls, swerving her fighter close to the Romulan Warbird._

_"Stop talking like that!" she fumed._

_"Like what?"_

_"Like you're saying good-bye! This isn't over. Their shields are critical-"_

_"And ours are gone. Just hear me out, okay? What happened back there-"_

_"I said stop!" She sent a round of fire at the enemy vessel's side. Waves of the blast rippled away from where it met its mark. "He was right, okay? And anyway, they're almost done. I promise, Geordi. We'll make it out of this-"_

_A burst of flames filled her frame of view, scalding her vision. Pieces of the Enterprise flew past her cockpit. A harrowing sound filled her ears. It took Carmen a few moments to realize that the scream was her own._

_Then a mangled piece of wreckage hit her starboard side. The fighter flew through space, its engines knocked offline. Over and over she tumbled through the vast nothingness._

_Carmen held onto the controls with all her strength, but her vision began to dim. She was losing consciousness. She pictured her fighter crashing on some god-forsaken planet, barely a trace left behind. The thought was almost a relief to her. Gladly then, she closed her eyes..._

Carmen woke with a start. Her head spun as if she were still hurtling through space in her doomed fighter. She tried to sit up, but found herself immobilized beneath an isotropic restraint. Carmen grimaced. She was back in sickbay.

"Good morning!" A woman with flame-colored hair stood at her bedside. Carmen threw her a scowl. "Nice to see you again, too," the doctor quipped. She held some sort of scanning device next to Carmen's head. It trilled loudly several times and Crusher nodded, satisfied with its findings. "Feeling better?"

"No."

Another woman came into their midst, one with dark hair and dark eyes. The captain had called her counselor. "Hello Beverly. I was wondering if I could speak with our guest?"

Crusher greeted her with a smile, clearly familiar with her company. "Sure, but-"

"I mean freely. Not held down like this."

Crusher's smile faded. "I don't think that's a good idea. She overpowered six of our officers last time. The captain would have a fit."

"I counted eight," Carmen muttered. Both women ignored her impertinence.

"Please. I'm asking you to trust me," the dark-haired one continued.

Crusher sighed resignedly. "I hope you know what you're doing." She pushed a few buttons on the side of the isotropic restraint and it began to slide back. "Jean Luc will be here shortly to see the test results. I'm about to go fetch them. Please...be careful."

Carmen sat up, regarding her visitor suspiciously. She waited until the doctor had withdrawn before speaking.

"Are you always this naive?" _Fight,_ she told herself. _Flee. Do something._ But there was something inexplicably soothing about this woman's presence, something that made her want to hear what she had to say.

The counselor sat down beside her, letting her legs swing over the edge of the bed. "I like to think the best of people. Besides, you will not hurt me. I sense no malice."

Carmen smiled in a sneering sort of way. "You are an empath, then?"

"Yes," she admitted. "You as well?"

Carmen's nostrils flared with quiet indignation. "What makes you say that?"

"You are part Betazoid. Like me. There is something different about other empaths; some sort of connection."

Carmen's jaw clenched and unclenched. She didn't like it when people made assumptions about her. Especially correct ones. "I am part Betazoid, yes. But I am not an empath. Not anymore."

"What do you mean 'not anymore?' I wasn't aware one could lose such abilities."

"I didn't lose them. Not exactly. I just buried them."

The counselor balked. "Why would you ever want to do that?"

"Because empathy is a disservice to a warrior. One must wear armor on the battlefield." Her answer sounded like part of a tired, memorized speech, even to her own ears.

"That is what you are then, a warrior?"

"Yes."

The counselor nodded. "Well we are peaceful explorers, Carmen. No one will hurt you here."

The young woman froze. "How-how did you know my name?"

"I saw things back there. In the brig."

"What sort of things?" She inched away from the counselor, narrowing her eyes warily.

"Memories, I think. And I heard him call you Carmen."

"Heard who? I don't understand, what are you talking about?" Carmen pushed herself off the bed, feeling far too uncomfortable to remain seated.

"It's called baseball, isn't it? What I saw when Will was speaking to you in the brig?"

Carmen's pulse raced. She felt suddenly exposed, vulnerable. A memory drifted back to mind. It was the same one she had thought of when she first heard his voice coming from the other side of the electrostatic wall.

_Dusty sunlight floated around them. Manufactured as it was, the young girl always found it calming and pleasant. There was a wooden crack and then her eyes followed a small, white ball as it flew to the virtual outfield._

_"How come you always manage to hit those curveballs, Carmen?" He laughed and rubbed his knuckles against her scalp, tousling her ebony hair._

_"Hey!" she protested, shoving his hand away. But a grin shone across her face to hear the pride in his voice._

_"Well," he said. "You're just a chip off the old block, I guess!"_

Carmen opened her eyes. She didn't even remember closing them. The counselor was watching her, a sad smile dancing across her lips. "You're his daughter, aren't you?"

A painful anger rose in Carmen's chest. She hissed through clenched teeth. "My father died when I was nine. That man I saw in the brig-that can't be him. _None_ of this can be real."

"No, he isn't your father. Not exactly. See, our Will doesn't have any children."

"What do you mean _your_ Will?" Carmen's head was spinning faster than ever.

"Something happened when you crashed," the counselor explained. "Something we have never encountered before. We believe you are...we believe that you…" She fumbled for the right words, then took a deep breath and began again. "Somehow, you must have crossed over to us."

"Crossed over? Into what? _From_ what?"

"Into our universe. From...from a parallel one. It's the only explanation. Our people have been discussing this for hours, ever since we brought you back to sickbay and I told the captain about my visions."

"What?!" Carmen sprang back as if from a fight. "No! This is all a lie!"

"Listen to me with your Betazoid blood! Then you will know for yourself! There is no deception. There is no battlefield. Just listen."

"I told you, I can't do that anymore!" Carmen turned her back on the counselor and buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders, and her world, shook with every breath.

Then a humble, imploring plea reached her ears. "Please, Carmen. Listen to me."

Carmen knew she had to. It was the only way to know for sure. She forced her breathing to slow and envisioned a door in her mind, a door that had been locked long ago. Slowly, she approached this door.

"That's it! You're trying!" The door opened. A warm feeling of encouragement flooded her mind, bringing with it a river of memories. But they were not her own. They were of a peaceful Enterprise, peaceful missions, and peaceful races. She saw faces that she knew-her father, Picard, Worf, Geordi-alive and well and together.

"How...how did you do that?" She turned around to face the counselor.

"I don't know. But I told you-we seem to have a connection." She smiled and rose. One hand lifted, reaching for Carmen's own.

She shied away. "Those things I saw...they were real?" Even as she asked, she knew the answer. She could feel sincerity exuding from the woman's outstretched hand.

"Yes. It appears our universes turned out quite differently, didn't they?"

"Tell me," Carmen said, her voice straining with sudden urgency. "What happened to Earth? Is it still inhabited?"

"It is."

The news shook her deeply. She leaned back against the wall and let herself slide to the floor. "I never got a chance to see it for myself. It was destroyed before my father could take me there."

"Destroyed? How?"

Carmen opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted. "What is the meaning of this?" Both women jumped at the sound of the captain's voice. They turned their heads to find Picard and Riker standing in the threshold. A row of security officers fanned out behind them.

Carmen leapt to her feet, her instincts taking over. The officers drew their phasers. She crouched, poised and ready.

"No-please!" The counselor moved between her and the men. "There is no need for this!"

"Why is she not restrained?" Picard demanded.

"So we could have a civil conversation," the counselor retorted. "It's alright, captain. I told her everything."

Picard chanced a look at the young woman, whose eyes darted wildly between him and the security officers. He blew out a breath. "Then there is something you should know-both of you. We just finished going over the lab results with Dr. Crusher."

"Lab results?" Carmen echoed.

The counselor sent her an apologetic smile. "It was the only way we could prove your identity. See, we asked Beverly to run your DNA against Will's."

Carmen's eyes shifted to the commander. His face confirmed their findings. He gazed back at her with newfound pity and a soft sort of curiosity.

"There is something else," Picard added.

Riker drew in a deep breath, turning his attention to the counselor. "The doctor ran another test, Deanna."

It was Carmen's first time hearing someone address the woman by name. It hit her like a punch in the gut. The counselor stared at her quizzically, sensing her pain. "Carmen? What's the matter?"

 _"Your name is Deanna?"_ Her fists clenched tightly. Her muscles tensed like springs. The revelation had stoked something ugly inside of her.

"Carmen, don't!" she shouted. But the words had barely left her mouth when the young woman launched herself towards the officers. The first was knocked to the floor before he could even fire his phaser. The next two did not last much longer.

"Stop this!" Riker bellowed. He grabbed Carmen around the waist and pulled her away from the skirmish. She thrashed violently in his hold, clawing at his arms and kicking at his legs to get free. He threw her to the ground then pinned her down with one of his boots between her shoulder blades and one of her own arms against her back. "I said _stop!"_

"Get me off of this wretched ship!" she snarled, still struggling with every ounce of her strength. "You hear me? I want off!"

The doctor appeared with a hypospray. She touched it to the side of Carmen's neck. One hiss and the world around her went black.

\- - - - - 

"What was _that_ about?" Riker exclaimed, stepping away from Carmen's inert body. Troi bent over to help one of the battered guards to his feet. She looked up with a sheepish, apologetic smile.

"I don't know. Everything was fine at first. Then it's like something...some kind of rage...came over her. What were you about to tell me, anyways? Something about a second test?"

"That was all my idea, I'm afraid." Dr. Crusher squatted beside Carmen's first victim, who was just rousing awake again. "I was going off of a few assumptions."

"What kind of assumptions?"

"Well, she's part Betazoid. And if William Riker was her father, then…"

Troi's hand flew to her chest. "Beverly, are you saying that…? Am I…?"

"Her mother, yes."

Troi gaped at the floor, speechless. Riker came over and touched her gently on the arm.

"Captain," she said at long last. "What will become of her?"

"For now, she will remain in sickbay on forced bedrest. Her injuries from the crash were extensive."

"And when she has recovered?"

Picard clasped his hands together. His face clouded in thought. "I don't know. But she is unfit to be around the crew."

"She is traumatized, sir. She needs help. We can't just keep her pinned to some cot-"

"Deanna!" Riker interjected. "Look, I know you have good intentions. But you saw what happened here. She's a loose cannon!"

"Agreed," Picard pitched in. "Interacting with her is too dangerous. I will make contact with the council, see if they can advise us on a course of action. There isn't exactly a precedence for this."

"I just want to speak with her," Troi insisted. "Please, captain. Let me try and reach her."

Picard sighed, mulling over the counselor's proposal. "Very well. But her restraints are not to be removed without my direct orders, understood?"

Troi nodded earnestly. "Yes, sir."

Riker didn't look too happy about the captain's decision. "We don't know what the council will decide, Deanna. Don't get in too deep," he warned, casting her a stern look. "She is a stranger, no matter what those tests say. And she has proven herself brash. Reckless. Cocky."

Troi's mouth curved into an impish sort of smile. "I wonder where she gets that from."

\- - - - - 

Several days later, Riker made his way to Ten Forward in need of some unwinding. And a Samarian Sunset. He walked in to find a familiar face sitting at the bar. Troi sulked over a hot fudge sundae, the spoon resting idle in one hand.

"Uh-oh," he said, taking the seat next to her. "Chocolate and ice cream. I know what that means. What happened?"

A smile flickered briefly across her face. "Don't worry about it."

"Don't tell me what to do," he shot back. She made a face at him, but her sullen exterior broke with a laugh.

"Well, if you must know," she relented. "It's Carmen."

Guinan appeared with a glass of clear liquid. "For you, commander."

"Guinan. My hero!" He accepted the drink with a grateful nod and then held it out towards the counselor. "Go ahead. I know you like this part."

Her smile widened. She reached out and tapped the rim of the glass. They both looked on, mesmerized, as swirls of passionate gold and fiery orange danced within the liquid. The colors melded together like lovers and the result was something new-a beautiful culmination of passion and ferocity that was neither gold nor orange anymore.

Riker set the drink back down on the bar. "I never get tired of that," he said with a chuckle. "Now, what were you saying? About Carmen?"

Troi shoveled some ice cream onto her spoon, remembering her dejectedness. "She won't talk to me. Won't even look at me. She has shut me out completely."

Riker placed his hand over hers. "Deanna, this case is...it's close to home. For both of us. I know you want something to be there with her, but…" He huffed out a breath. "Look, her Enterprise was very different from ours. Maybe we were different, too, you know? Maybe we shouldn't look for a connection that isn't there."

"But it _is_ there. I'm not imagining it. And when she looks at you-Will, she misses her father terribly. I get the feeling he was a good man. Which means he couldn't have been _that_ different from you."

Riker sent her a flattered grin. "Well, it isn't up to us anyways; she'll be the council's problem soon enough."

Troi nodded and squeezed his hand tightly. "Do you ever….you know...wonder? What it might've been like?"

The commander's grin wilted. He cleared his throat and shrugged. "Sure. But I try not to dwell on that stuff. We've made our choices. And I think both of us have done tremendously well for ourselves."

She nodded again, but said nothing.

"Don't you agree?" he added, trying to ignore the hint of guilt creeping up his conscience.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Yes of course."

A page from Picard came through his combadge just then. It was the sound of mercy to the commander's ears. "Number One, can I see you in my ready room?"

"Be right there, sir."

He squeezed her hand good-bye and made for the exit, leaving his drink half-finished at the bar. He couldn't help but feel the conversation was only half-finished as well. But duty came first-just as it always had.


	4. A Goodbye Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmen's fate is decided.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Riker said upon entering the captain's ready room. He found Picard sitting behind the desk, chair leaned back and fingers interlaced over his stomach.

"I've heard back from the council," Picard replied.

Riker's throat tightened. He had not expected to feel this nervous about their decision. In fact, he had expected to feel relieved. "And?" he prompted.

"They wish to question her. Find out about her training, her enemies. They believe we might be able to glean something useful from her tragic experiences."

"Think she'll talk to the council?"

"No. Not a chance."

Riker sank into a chair opposite the captain. "Then what?"

Leaning forward to rest his hands on the desk, Picard took a few moments to answer. "The council has...methods."

Riker's face hardened with anger. "Methods, sir?"

"Admiral Leyton has assured me they will be humane. But it would still be in her best interest to cooperate. You must try to convince her of that."

"Me? Why me?"

"You and Worf will be accompanying her to council headquarters via shuttle. We are too far from Earth to divert the entire Enterprise."

Riker wrestled with the notion. "Sir, I'm not sure if...if I'm the most objective party for this task."

"She seems receptive to you. Besides, the council will ensure that this is handled objectively."

"Yes, but-"

"Perhaps a little too objectively." Picard smiled then, fixing his eyes on the commander as he waited for him to catch his drift.

"Sir?"

"We both know Carmen is not going to do herself any favors. But if she is the daughter of William T. Riker, then, well, she deserves a capable and...slightly biased...advocate on her side."

Riker slowly smiled back. "Yes, sir."

\- - - - -

"Dr. Crusher is going to let you up. When she does, you will stand facing away from me with your hands behind your back. Is that understood?" Picard addressed the young woman. Her eyes swiveled towards him. They looked clear and alert. Her once sunken cheeks now had color and roundness to them. Carmen's recovery had gone well and, surprisingly, without further incident.

"Maybe," she quipped, still flippant as ever.

"You can walk to the shuttlecraft on your own, or we can sedate you first. What will it be?" Picard asked, unruffled.

"Walking's fine."

The isometric restraint retracted and Carmen took her time sitting up, pausing to stretch her stiff neck. She eyed the host of security personnel accompanying Picard. A few of them shifted nervously.

"A good-bye party? For me?" Her lips curled back in a devious smirk.

Then came another voice. "On your feet. Now."

Her smirk fled as Riker stepped into their midst. She begrudgingly obeyed, hoisting herself off the cot and turning around.

Picard nodded to the nearest officer. He swallowed hard and then walked towards her with slow, timid steps. Carmen's head whipped to the side at the sound of his approach. Immediately, his hand flew to his phaser.

"Just cuff me already, would you?" Carmen taunted.

Picard pursed his lips. "A little humility goes a long way, young lady. It would be wise of you to remember that when you are before the council."

"The council? I am to see the council?"

Picard ignored her and turned to the commander. "She is your charge now, Number One."

They marched to the shuttle bay absent of the captain. Worf was there, waiting beside a readied craft. "We have it from here," he assured the officer holding Carmen's arm. The ensign nodded and withdrew with the rest of the security team.

Once they were gone, Carmen looked up at the commander. "Are we really going to see the council?"

"Yes."

"So you're passing me off, then?"

Riker prodded her towards the shuttle gangway. "I thought you didn't want to stay on the Enterprise?"

"That's true. But I cannot stand those...those _bihnuch_."

Worf's eyes widened at her use of Klingon profanity. Riker stifled a grin. "Well, they aren't my favorite people, either. But they are our leaders."

"They are politicians," she spat. "And as politicians, they will always choose power over people. Be careful where you put your faith."

Worf looked as though he were considering her words carefully. But Riker shrugged and continued urging her onto the craft. He attached her cuffs to a short loop and chain in the aft portion. Then he sat in the pilot's seat and began making final preparations for their flight.

"Settle in," he called. "It's going to be a long, boring trip. Earth is pretty far from our current location, so it's going to be just us three for awhile. And Worf isn't much of a talker."

"Earth?" Carmen repeated. "You're...you're taking me to Earth?"

"Yeah, haven't you been?"

She sank back against her seat. "No."

That small, single word was weighted down with something that weighed heavily on Riker's heart, too. "Well, that's where the council convenes. So that's where we're going," he said, trying to brush it off.

"Is the city called San-what is it, San Frisco?"

"San Francisco," he corrected, smiling inwardly. It was strange, he realized, to see her fumble with something. Young as she was, she seemed to carry the experience-and burden-of many years upon her shoulders. "Did the Federation meet there in your universe as well?"

"Not since I was seven. They moved their headquarters off-planet shortly after the war began. In secret, of course."

"Why move?"

"Because they wanted to save themselves."

Riker's hand paused, hovering above a switch. He turned his head to the side without looking at her. "I see."

She breathed out a sigh that sounded more like a snarl. "Look, I think Worf has the right idea. Talking is overrated. Now let's get on with this long and boring flight."


	5. When Plans Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmen and Riker struggle to get along. Meanwhile, a wrench is thrown into their plans.

_"Do you realize what you are asking of me?"_

_Carmen pressed her ear tightly against the door. The desperation in Picard's voice made her heart thump._

_He continued: "If I am complicit, then I am no better than the Borg." The child flinched at the sound of that name, the name of her father's murderers._

_"Oh?" came Admiral Leyton's voice. "How is that?"_

_"I would be handing over innocent souls so that you can turn them into some kind of...of...killing machines!"_

_"The Federation needs them. We are at war, captain. Or haven't you noticed? And we are running out of soldiers to send."_

_"They are not soldiers! You would be sending them to their deaths!"_

_"They will receive one year of specialized training-"_

_"They are CHILDREN!"_

_A stiff silence ensued. The admiral was first to break it. "If you will not comply, then I will have you court martialed. And the children will come with me anyways. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. The choice is yours, Picard."_

_"And what about them? What about their choice?" The captain sounded as if he were wavering on the verge of tears. Carmen hated the admiral for it. "Many of them have lost their parents already. Please...don't take them from the only home, the only comfort, they have ever known. It will destroy them. Even if they survive, it will destroy them."_

_But Leyton was not moved. "You have one hour to decide. The easy way or the hard way."_

_Footsteps approached the door where Carmen was eavesdropping. She darted away, ducking behind a nearby corner. Peeking cautiously around the edge, she saw Admiral Leyton pause in the threshold to straighten his uniform. She loathed the despicable calmness that emanated from the man._

_Leyton disappeared down the long length of the hall. Only then did Carmen creep forward and peer into the ready room. Picard hunched over his desk, gripping the edge as if to keep from falling. Tears glinted off his eyes in the dim light of the lamp. But just below the surface, a storm of emotions brewed. Carmen had never sensed such violent things from the captain before, not even after her father's death three years ago. At the funeral he had remained strong and stoic, a wall for her to lean against. She could still remember the feeling of his hand on her shoulder, gentle as a falling leaf but with the weight of all the compassion in the world._

_"Captain?" she called, her voice barely more than whisper. She tried again, louder. "Captain?"_

_He looked up, surprised. "Carmen? What are you doing here?" She bounded forward and threw her arms around him. He began to pull away, but she gripped him even tighter. So, relenting to the embrace, he stood still until her arms loosened of their own accord._

_"What's the matter?" he asked finally._

_"What did he mean? Where is he sending us?"_

_Picard's jawline drew taut. "You were listening?"_

_She withdrew a guilty step and cast her face to the floor. "Yes."_

_"Carmen…you know better than that. You cannot just...you...come here." He drew her back to him, holding her tightly this time. For awhile they remained thus, each heart breaking in the silence. At long last, Picard sighed and crouched down to her level._

_"Every time I look at you, I see your father. His eyes. His strength." A sad smile tugged at his lips. "Your parents...they were some of the finest officers Starfleet ever had. These were not the plans they had for you, but you will make them proud. I know you will."_

_"I don't want to leave," she blurted out. She wiped hurriedly at her face, ashamed of the tears gathering there._

_"It's alright. Hey, hey, look at me." He lifted her chin to force her gaze. "I will do all in my power to get you assigned to the Enterprise. You will return one day, and that's a promise. You belong here."_

Carmen's eyes flew open. She sat up, disoriented. Was that...music? Smooth, sultry chords from a double bass flirted with her ears. Notes from a piano rose and fell like playful stairs. A woman's voice crooned, the familiar words wrapping around her like a blanket. It was her father's favorite song.

"No more blues, I'm going back home

No, no more blues, I promise no more to roam

Home is where the heart is

The funny part is my heart's been right there all along."

And then there he was, standing in front of her. "You're awake! How about some breakfast?" He pulled down a table from the wall and set a glass of orange juice on top. As she reached for it, something jerked her wrists back. Cuffs.

Then Carmen remembered. No, the man before her was not her father. He just looked like him, with the same lopsided smile and the same taste for jazz. "Oh," he said when the chain snapped taut. "You'll need your hands to eat, I suppose."

"Forget about it," she snarled. "I'm not hungry. And can you turn off that racket?"

Riker gaped, taken aback by her sudden surliness. "Computer, that's enough music," he acquiesced.

The music stopped. Stifling silence filled its place. Riker retrieved two bowls of oatmeal from a replicator tray and placed them on the little table.

"Not a morning person, eh?" he said, sitting down across from her.

She threw him a glare. "Are we there yet? I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Riker glossed over her petulance and leaned forward to undo her cuffs.

"I said forget about it!" she snapped, pulling away from him.

He placed his hands back down on the table and clenched his jaw. "Look," he said. "We need to have a little talk."

"No we don't."

"You're going to be in front of the council soon. Acting like this is only going to make things worse for you."

"Worse?" she scoffed. "They can hardly be worse."

One of his brows arched. "That's a pretty poor attitude. You've been rescued, you've been healed, and if you'd eat your oatmeal, you'd be fed."

"You think I should be thankful for what happened to me?"

"A little, yeah," he retorted. She stared at him hard, letting the oatmeal and the distance grow cold between them. Riker shook his head with an air of exasperation. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish, Carmen? I know you've been through a lot, but being difficult-"

"You know? You _know?"_ Her defiance flared dangerously. "No, commander, you _don't_ know! You don't know anything about me!" She struck at the bowl of oatmeal, splattering it across the table and wall. Then she sank back once more, back from the brink of her rage. "I hate oatmeal, by the way. Always have."

Riker's jaw worked for words, but none came out. Carmen turned her head, waiting to hear him storm away. But he didn't. When she ventured to look at him once more, his gaze had softened.

"So that's what it is," he said, his voice soft as well.

Just as she opened her mouth to reply, a shrill alarm rang through the shuttlecraft.

"Worf! What is it? What's going on?" Riker shouted, racing to the front.

"A battlecruiser just decloaked off the port side, sir."

"Begin evasive maneuvers-"

"No, sir. We're locked in their tractor beam."

"Open hailing frequencies!"

"I have already tried, sir. No response."

Riker stared at the intimidating hulk of a ship before them. Its wings curved downward like a falcon swooping upon a helpless hare.

Carmen recognized it right away. "A Bird-of-Prey..."

"I do not like this," Worf growled. "It reeks of trouble."

"What are they doing?" Carmen demanded. "Why are Klingons abducting a Federation vessel?" She pulled at her cuffs, suddenly wishing she had let the commander undo them.

"That's a good question," Riker mused. "And I have a feeling we are about to find out."

\- - - - - 

"Free me! You have to free me!" Carmen fought against the cuffs with all her might, pulling until the metal dug into her flesh. "Let me fight! I can help you!"

Riker continued hailing the Bird-of-Prey, but to no avail. "No. I'm still hoping we won't have to fight."

"Won't have to fight? Do you know anything about Klingons?"

Worf swiveled in his chair. "What do _you_ know about Klingons?"

She threw him an offended scowl. "I worked on one of those battle cruisers for six years! That's six more than you, am I right?" Worf growled and turned his back on her.

"Just let me handle this, okay?" Riker snapped.

"What are you going to do, lecture them to death?"

"I'm not getting into this with you right now! Worf, set your phaser to stun."

Darkness swallowed the shuttle as it passed through the ominous gates of the docking bay. Riker moved stealthily towards the back, standing between Carmen and the door with his weapon drawn. After coming to a halt, all three passengers waited in tense, restless silence for what would come next.

Suddenly a blast from outside tore a hole through the hatch. It was wrenched off its hinges and then a host of armed Klingons boarded, filling the craft with their pungent scent.

"We are Starfleet officers, and you are in breach of protocol! Drop your weapons now!" Riker ordered.

The leading Klingon eyed him up and down. "Starfleet officers...yes, we know." He lurched towards the commander, malice gleaming in his eyes. Riker fired without flinching. His enemy fell to the floor, heavy as a tree. But another Klingon soon took his place. And then another, and another. They surged onto the shuttle like a merciless tide, overtaking the commander and (after an admirable struggle) Worf as well.

"How dare you!" Carmen shouted, thrashing against her restraints. A Klingon that was shorter than the rest paused with his fist raised above a bloodied Riker.

"What is this?" he mused, sauntering towards the young woman. Carmen flattened herself against the wall, bristling with anger.

"No! Leave her out of this!" Riker cried. He was struck across the face for his outburst and then dragged violently away.

"Free my hands," Carmen snarled. "So that I might kill you with them!" She spat at the Klingon's feet.

He lashed out, grabbing a fistful of raven hair and yanking her head back. "You talk like a warrior, but you look like a child!" Raucous laughter ripped from his throat.

"And you look like a piece of _baktag."_

His laughter stopped. Fury flared behind his eyes. The fist that held her hair tightened. Next thing she knew, her face was being slammed into the wall. Everything around Carmen swam in a nauseating blur. Warm blood gushed from her nose. "Throw them in the brig," she heard him order the remaining Klingons. "And then destroy the shuttle."


	6. A Most Powerful Ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riker learns more about Carmen, and more of her past is revealed.

As Riker was dragged towards the brig, he found himself oddly relieved to hear Carmen's vicious protests following not too far behind. Craning his neck, he caught a glimpse of the young woman. Fresh blood streamed down her face, staining the front of her uniform. They had beaten her into compliance, but at least they had left her alive.

While she and Worf continued to protest their treatment, Riker took note of the cruiser's condition. It appeared to have taken recent, heavy damage. Weapon fire scored the bulkheads. Doors bent outward as if they had been forced open. And there was no sign of a crew other than the host of Klingons accompanying them.

They made their way through the belly of the ship before entering a dimly lit brig. Riker, Worf, and Carmen were thrown into rudimentary cells separated by rows of metal bars. Carmen flung herself against the gate just as it swung closed, hurling all manner of insults and slurs that seemed to have little effect on their captors but rendered Worf speechless.

"Carmen!" the commander shouted, trying to get her attention. Carmen, they're gone!" The last Klingon withdrew, slamming the door behind him. "We'll find a way out of this, don't worry. When we don't reach the council-"

"We don't have that much time!" She cut him off. "We'll be dead before the Enterprise even knows something went wrong."

"If they wanted us dead, we wouldn't be sitting in this brig."

"You're the one who's sitting! And I'm not waiting around to be rescued. _Qastah nuq jay!"_ She shook the bars violently.

"We need to think clearly, that's all. Think of a plan."

"No, we need to _act!"_ She paced along the perimeter of her cell, testing each side for any weaknesses.

"Hey, you said you spent six years on one of these ships, didn't you?" Riker tried. "How well do you know the systems?"

"It doesn't matter; we can't do anything from in here. We have to-we have to get _out!"_ She started ramming the gate with her shoulder, roaring with effort and frustration.

"Carmen, stop this! That's an order!" Riker climbed to his feet and reached one long arm through the bars separating their cells. He caught hold of her sleeve and yanked her back towards him. "That gate isn't budging! You'll only hurt yourself!"

"What do you care?" she snarled. "I won't be your problem much longer, anyway. Whether or not we get out of here." She jerked her arm away and retreated to the far corner of her cell to sulk.

The side of Riker's jaw pulsed several times. "Look," he finally said. "We're in this together, like it or not. Now let's think. Did you notice anything strange about the ship as they were bringing us here?"

Worf cleared his throat. "It looked to me like there had been a battle of some kind."

"Yes," Riker concurred. "What do you make of it, Worf?"

The Klingon's eyes clouded in deep thought. "It is too early to tell, sir."

Riker turned his attention back to the sullen young woman. "And you, Carmen? What do you think?"

She scowled at him and then kicked the back wall of her cell.

"Come on. You must know something that can help us. What were you doing on a Bird-of-Prey for six years anyways?"

Her face scrunched together, thoroughly indignant. "It was my first assignment!"

"First assign-? That can't be." Riker shook his head. "You're not even old enough to have graduated from the Academy!"

"I didn't _go_ to the Academy."

"But then-how did you enlist?"

She folded her arms across her chest and huffed out a snarl. "I didn't enlist. I was drafted."

Riker regarded the young woman anew. Carmen's bitterness that had hitherto only frustrated him seemed suddenly more forgivable. "Carmen...how old were you?"

She looked away before answering. "Twelve, when the council came for me."

Something sharp pricked at the commander's heart. Worf's face hardened with quiet, noble anger. "They sent a little girl to work on a Bird-of-Prey?"

She nodded and drew in a defensive breath. "Lucky thing, too. Klingons fared much better than humans in war. They proved our most powerful ally. Every day, they kept me safe. Every battle, they had my back." A proud smile curved one side of her mouth. "They even had a special name for me. _Qa'Hom."_

"Qa'Hom?" Riker turned to Worf questioningly.

"A small rodent from the home world," Worf explained. "I have never heard someone be called that in an affectionate manner, though."

"Yeah well, you should hear the things I called _them."_

Riker burst out laughing. Even Worf cracked an approving grin. Carmen beamed at them both, delightedly smug. For a few fleeting moments, the commander could see Deanna in the lines of her smile. For a few fleeting moments, the distance between them did not seem so far.

Suddenly the brig door flew open. Several guards barged in, their dark, shifty eyes roving from prisoner to prisoner. A smaller Klingon shouldered his way past them. Carmen recognized him as the one who had addressed her on the shuttle.

"What do you want with us?" Riker demanded.

The Klingon ignored him and turned to Worf instead. "You-" He jabbed a finger in his direction.

"Leave him alone!" Carmen shouted, hurling herself against the bars. "If you so much as lay one finger on him-"

"Silence!" A guard barked. He lashed a weapon across her bars. She recoiled briefly, then let loose a tirade of threats and profanity that scorched even Riker's ears.

"Get her under control!" their leader growled. The guard opened her cell door and was immediately buried beneath an angry avalanche. He and Carmen crashed to the ground together. She struck his head repeatedly and then, while he was dazed, went for his weapon.

But two more guards were upon her before she succeeded. One held back her arms while the other punished her for the brazen attempt.

"Stop it!" Riker cried, grabbing hold of the bars and shaking them desperately. "Leave her alone!"

Another blow. And another. Carmen's head slumped towards the ground between punches.

"You have my attention! Now stop this!" Worf fumed.

A devious smile twisted the Klingon leader's lips. "Very well." He waved to the guards, who obediently stepped away. Carmen sank to the floor in a bloody, groaning mess. Meanwhile, the leader drew himself close to Worf's gate. Something wild and savage glimmered in his eyes. "Listen to me carefully, fellow Klingon," he said. "For I am here to liberate you."

\- - - - - 

Carmen clung to consciousness on the brig floor. As she wove in and out, reality started mingling with memories. Instead of lying at the guard's feet in a puddle of her own blood, she was making her way through a maze of red and black halls on a different Bird-of-Prey. The air reeked of exhaust as she picked up the pace, hurrying towards an important meeting...

_Already she was running late. Normally, this would not have flustered her so. But today there was too much at stake. Up ahead, an officer was coming down the same hall. She recognized Vullek's distinct gait. He was the captain's nephew, and had a way of getting beneath the young woman's skin. Upon seeing Carmen, he stepped into the middle of the path._

_She stopped a few feet short of him, fists planted on her hips. "Well? Are you going to move, or shall I make you?"_

_"On your way to see the admiral?" he asked, ignoring her threat._

_"Yes. And you are making me late."_

_"I know you are not overly fond of the man. Would you...perhaps...like me to accompany you?"_

_Carmen found herself taken aback by the unwonted gentleness in the Klingon's voice. Her hands slid down to her sides._

_"No. I can handle this alone."_

_He smiled ruefully. "I should have known you would say that. You always say that."_

_Her lips twitched, wanting to grimace. "I am still late, Vullek. And you are still in my way."_

_He sighed heavily. "I will miss you, Qa'Hom. Many of us will."_

_Something bittersweet churned in her chest. "I...I will miss you, too," she mumbled. It surprised her, how much she meant it._

_Vullek moved aside. She took a single step, then hesitated. "Hey," she prompted. "Think I will be allowed in Sto'Vo'Kor someday? Or is that only for Klingon souls?"_

_A smile spread across his face. "It is only for Klingons. But you are one of the finest Klingon warriors I have ever met. Albeit the ugliest."_

_She took a swing at him. He dodged it and then put her in a headlock, a chuckle rumbling from his throat. "Let me go!" she demanded, trying hard not to spoil her defiance with a laugh. "Before I send you to Sto'Vo'Kor myself!"_

_\- - - - -_

_Carmen paused in the threshold. A single man occupied the briefing room. He had a peppered beard and a garishly decorated Starfleet garb. The very sight of him stoked old, angry flames in the young woman's heart. She pictured Picard's eyes shining in the lamplight with tears of defeat._

_"Ensign Riker!" The man looked up and flashed her a cloying smile. "Come in, come in."_

_"Admiral Leyton." She hailed him with a polite nod and then took the seat across from him. "Sorry I am late. I...I uh...wanted to thank-you. For finally giving me this opportunity."_

_He cocked his head to the side. "Finally?"_

_"Yes, sir. This was my seventh time applying for the transfer."_

_"Ah." His brows knit together. "Are you not satisfied here?"_

_"That's not it." Beneath the table, her hands balled into fists. Of course he wouldn't remember. "It's just that...I grew up on the Enterprise. I have been keen to return."_

_"Ah, yes, that's right!" Leyton nodded vigorously. "Didn't your father serve as well? What was his name again...William? William Riker?"_

_"Yes." Carmen despised the way her father's name sounded in his mouth._

_"Well, I have been going over your record," he said, tapping a screen that lay on the table before him. "And you are a shining example of the draft's success."_

_"Success?" she repeated. The flames rose higher in her chest. "Do you know how many of your child-soldiers have been slaughtered before my eyes, admiral?" She trembled with the restraint that it took not to reach across the table and strangle him._

_"We all appreciate the sacrifices that have had to be made. But Haven One is secure, and plans for Haven Two are underway. Thanks to people like you, of course." She remained silent and aloof. "Anyway," he continued. "The Enterprise will be here soon to pick you up. However...there is something that needs to be discussed first. A stipulation, if you will."_

_Her stomach dropped. "A what?" She leaned over the table, almost as if she were poising herself to leap at him. He held up his palms and flashed her another simpering smile._

_"Maybe stipulation is too strong of a word. Think of it as...as an opportunity. Am I correct that your father was second in command?"_

_She nodded, seething with anger._

_"Well, how would you like to follow in his footsteps?"_

_Her rage dissipated, replaced by shock. She could only blink back at him, utterly speechless. Leyton's smile widened._

_"I thought you might like the idea." His settled deeper into his seat._

_"You mean-you mean second in command of the Enterprise?" she stuttered._

_"Yes."_

_"To serve alongside Captain Picard?"_

_"No."_

_"My father always-wait, what?"_

_"Not Picard." Leyton held her gaze unflinchingly. In the ugly red light of the overhead lamps, his skin looked ashen as a corpse. So did his expression. "See, Picard is...he is a relic of the past. He has been reluctant to adjust. And the council is tired of fighting him at every turn."_

_"What will you do then? Relieve him of duty?"_

_"No, no." Leyton laughed, straightening the lapels of his garb in a lackadaisical fashion. "Well...not me personally."_

_Carmen pushed away from the table and stood up. "What exactly is this stipulation, admiral?"_

_Leyton stood up as well. His demeanor shifted to something much more serious, much more menacing. "Commander Wharton has informed me that Picard is keeping a number of Romulans in his brig."_

_"Romulans? Why?"_

_"I don't know the whole story. And frankly, I don't care. But I am ordering you to neutralize them."_

_"You would have me go behind my captain's back?"_

_"He will not be captain much longer. Commander Wharton will take his place. And I want you to ensure that the process goes as...smoothly...as possible."_

_Carmen's head spun. Suddenly, it felt as if the floor were spinning, too. She bent over the table onto her palms. "I...I cannot do this…"_

_Leyton clicked his tongue. "With a record like yours, surely a mission like this would not disturb you. But if you are not up to the task, then I will find someone else to help Wharton lead the Enterprise."_

_"What you are speaking of is mutiny!" she cried. "Mutiny against the man that my father died to protect!"_

_Leyton gathered his things together calmly. "It's funny, you know. That you should defend him."_

_"Why is that?" she growled._

_"Ensign Riker, it was not the council who kept rejecting your petition to transfer. It was Picard."_


	7. Their Chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Klingons enlighten Worf. Meanwhile, in Carmen's past, she returns to her Enterprise for the first time in seven years.

"Carmen...Carmen, say something!" The young woman's eyes cracked open and tried to focus on her surroundings. A pair of legs stood near her head, clad in armor. Their owner, a Klingon guard, growled a curt warning as she stirred awake. "I'm over here, Carmen. Can you hear me?" came the familiar voice again.

She slid her legs beneath her and sat up with a groan, fighting the urge to call out for her father. "Commander?"

Riker gave a sigh of relief. "Good, you're alright. Just...just lay low." His gaze shifted to something behind them. It was then Carmen noticed two other voices coming from that direction.

"I have no quarrel with the Federation! It would be dishonorable of me to turn my back on them!" Worf stood in his cell, glowering fiercely at a smaller Klingon. Carmen's bearings returned hot and swift as the winds that fuel a wildfire.

"You would let their promise of peace rot your warrior heart? Tell me, brother, why does it even beat?"

Worf scoffed. "You are a fool. A war monger."

"And you are a traitor to your race! They have taught you to deny what burns in your blood; they have tamed you! That uniform you wear is nothing but chains!" The renegade glared at Worf's Starfleet markings with disdain.

"It is _your_ prison I am standing in," Worf retorted.

"You think your precious Federation can sustain its control much longer? Peace is an illusion! A dangerous illusion, that lets warriors grow fat and complacent. What then, when war comes knocking?"

Worf stepped forward with a snarl. "So you would seek it out instead? Who are you, anyway?" he demanded.

"I am Captain Jarat, leader of this glorious revolution."

"You do not have the markings of a captain," Worf noted. "What happened here? Where is the rest of your crew?"

"Mutiny." A small voice rose from behind them. All eyes turned to the raven-haired woman kneeling in her own blood. "There was a mutiny, wasn't there?"

Jarat's lips curled back like a rabid dog. "Our captain refused to see the truth. He had forgotten what it meant to be a Klingon. I implore you, brother. Remember! Win back your honor!"

"A war without reason-where is the honor in that?"

"Without reason? Do you not understand?"

"Of course he doesn't understand." The young woman's voice grew stronger. "He was taken in by a human family before the age of inclusion. His spirit has been dulled by time among man."

Riker's blood ran cold. There was a rapt sort of fascination on Carmen's face as she gazed up at the renegade. While his words had failed to enchant Worf, it appeared they had reached another pair of unwitting ears.

"Who are you, to speak for him?" Jarat sneered.

"She is my charge," Riker intervened hastily. "Do not listen to her."

"I am his _prisoner_ ," she snapped. "A prisoner of the Federation. And we share the same contempt, you and I."

"We share nothing, human!" Jarat stormed over to the young woman. Despite Riker's sharp protest, the Klingon's hand flew and she went sprawling across the ground.

"You are wrong," she muttered, spitting out a mouthful of blood and pulling herself up again. "I am more Klingon than that _pahtak!"_ She jerked her head towards Worf.

"Carmen, stop this!" Riker hissed. "Be quiet!"

"You see?" she said, keeping her eyes locked on Jarat. "See how they try to control me?"

Jarat paused. "What do you have against the Federation?" he inquired, his voice laced with a begrudging curiosity.

"They ripped me from my home as a child. Forced my service, my loyalty. Took everything I had, and then asked for more."

"Listen to me, Carmen," Riker pleaded. "You don't know what you are saying. Please-"

"Quiet!" Jarat bellowed. He grabbed hold of Carmen's chin and searched her face intently. As his nails dug into her skin he waited for her to wince, but she did not. Instead, she stared fearlessly back. "Hmph," he mused. "You have the heart of a warrior after all. What a pity; such valiance wasted on a small and useless creature."

"Useless?" A treacherous smile crossed her bloody lips. "I know how to run a Federation flagship. Imagine one of _those_ at your disposal."

Riker felt as though someone had knocked the wind out of him. "No…" he gasped. "Don't do this! You're making a mistake!"

A malicious hunger flickered behind Jarat's eyes. "Bring her with us," he ordered, tossing her aside. "Perhaps she can be of some use."

Carmen landed at the foot of Riker's cell. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his. "Carmen...what are you doing?"

Swallowing hard, she climbed to her feet. "Sorry, commander. I'm tired of being a prisoner."

"It was wrong, what they did to you. But now you're just doing it to yourself. Do you miss the war that much?"

She said nothing, trying hard to pretend that his words had not landed.

"What about your father?" Riker continued, trying desperately to jostle her resolve.

Her fists clenched at her sides until the knuckles turned white. "My father is gone! And so are his ideals."

Suddenly a guard shoved her from behind. "Move!" he barked. Carmen stumbled forward onto her knees. Then she cast the commander one final, spiteful glance before getting up and leaving the brig with her new crewmates.

\- - - - - 

_The door slid open. There, just beyond the threshold, lay the captain's ready room. Carmen took a deep breath, then stepped inside for the first time in seven years._

_It looked smaller than she remembered. Her hand reached out to graze the walls as if she could touch the very memories they held. She spied Captain Picard sitting at his desk, nose in a book. For a moment, Carmen pretended he had been right there all along. For a moment, she let herself believe that nothing had changed._

_"Did you need something?" Picard prompted, eyes still on the page._

_Carmen straightened the hem of her tunic and waited with an eager smile for him to look up. But her smile wilted when he did not._

_"Sir," she finally called. "It's...it's me."_

_Picard's attention snapped up at the sound of her voice. "Carmen?" He rose quickly from his chair, fingertips resting on top of the book._

_Carmen could see a younger version of herself rushing forward into his embrace. It made her heart ache in corners she had long since forgotten about. "I uh, I just arrived," she said, mustering another smile._

_"Yes, I know," he said with an abruptness that cut her like a knife. He turned away from the desk, and away from Carmen. "Admiral Leyton notified me. He...he sings your praises." A note of disgust in Picard's voice made her squirm with shame. And the mention of Leyton served as a grim reminder that things had, in fact, changed._

_"Sir, I know it has been a long time-"_

_"Why did he send you, Carmen?"_

_She felt her stomach drop to the floor. "S-Sir?" she stammered._

_He swivelled back around, a bitter blaze burning in his eyes."Is it because of the Romulans?"_

_She clasped her hands together to keep from wringing them. "Leyton informed me of their presence aboard, yes," she said, shying away from a more direct answer._

_Picard grunted, regarding her with a wariness that made Carmen's heart ache all over again._

_"Why, sir?" she blurted out. "Why are you keeping them captive?"_

_"You mean why am I keeping them alive?" He blew out a short, sharp breath. "Because I have enough blood on my hands. They were injured and alone, living in the rubble of their outpost. To leave them there would have been to sentence them to death."_

_"But sir-all Romulans have been sentenced to death. It is the council's decree."_

_"The council and their decrees," Picard scoffed. "Do you know what outpost I found them on?"_

_"What does that have to do with-"_

_"D67."_

_The rest of the sentence died in her throat. Picard lifted his chin, scrutinizing her reaction. "I thought you might know of that outpost."_

_"Yes, sir," she admitted. "I...I aided in the neutralization of it three months ago."_

_"Neutralization?" His mouth twisted in revulsion. "Is that what they are calling it? In your father's day, it was called murder." Picard returned to his desk, heaving himself into the chair as if he could not bear the weight of the word._

_"No," she asserted. "Murder is the destruction of innocent lives. Those Romulans were not innocent."_

_"We have all lost our innocence, haven't we? Tell me, Carmen. Would you be willing to...to listen to one?"_

_Her face furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"_

_A wretched realization seeped into Picard's eyes, extinguishing the bitter blaze. "You've forgotten, haven't you?"_

_"Forgotten what, sir?"_

_"Your mother's gift."_

_Carmen's jawline tightened. "Are you speaking of my empathic abilities? Yes, I have forgotten. Empathy is a disservice to a warrior. One must wear armor on the battlefield."_

_Picard nodded slowly, mournfully. The sorrow that filled his eyes now flooded his face as well. "Carmen," he began, leaning forward onto his desk. "If you can...if you will remember how...you must listen to them. Go down to the brig and meet the Romulans face-to-face. No battlefield. No armor."_

_"That would be fraternization!" Her cheeks flushed with indignation. "Why have you given them such mercy? They would kill you if they had the chance!"_

_"You know this for sure?"_

_"They are Romulans. Of course they would."_

_He clicked his tongue. "What a sad era, when it is easier to smash an atom than a prejudice. Albert Einstein said that once. He was speaking of a different era, of course. But how tragic that we find ourselves there once more."_

_"Captain, please," Carmen pleaded, advancing towards him. "You have upset a lot of people in high places. These Romulans are not worth it."_

_"Worth the disapproval of a bunch of bureaucrats?"_

_She lowered her voice and leaned forward, palms on the edge of the desk. "There is more at stake than you realize, sir."_

_His eyes narrowed. Slowly, gradually, his face hardened into a stone wall. "I see," he muttered. "I see now."_

_He pushed away from the desk and picked up the book, dusting off its cover. "I'm sure you have duties to attend to, ensign." He nestled the book onto a crowded shelf. "Dismissed."_

_"Captain!" Her voice strained direly. "You have to listen-"_

_"I said dismissed!" His words cut through more than the air. It was as if they cut through a bond somehow, somewhere. Carmen turned away without another word, tears springing to her eyes._

_Yes, things had changed. And now she knew for sure-there was no going back._


End file.
